Dark Lady
by RogueMudblood
Summary: Something more than human, but still mortal, Isabella Swan is not what she appeared to be. Shattered by Edward's departure, she travels back to her roots, to fulfill a destiny she had long thought to be a fairy tale. The question is whether her heart will allow it.
1. I: Bella

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own Twilight. I make no profit from this work of fiction._

AN: Story is adopted from Violet Voltori. I endeavor to do it justice. This chapter shall consist of the story through chapter three, **re-written**. Some elements (minor ones) will change, in favor of time line.

To make that perfectly clear, **I** wrote the content in this story. If you would like to view the original to compare, you can search for it under the title "The Dark Lady" by Violet Voltori.

While this is AU, as crossovers are by definition, I shall attempt to keep it as close to in character as possible.

_As with all authors, I appreciate feedback. Though, if all you have to say is "ugh" please at least convey what exactly was "ugh" to you. I cannot improve without specifics._

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* * *

My body was wracked with sobs. I could hear my wretched cries echoing off the walls. When he left, Edward Cullen wrenched my very soul from me. I could feel the aches in my ribs and wondered when I would no longer have tears to shed. My throat was raw from having voiced my anguish for so long.

As my thoughts were centered only on my own grief, I almost did not hear my benefactor enter.

"Bella." His sharp tone cut through my cries, and I looked up from my tear-soaked pillow to stare at him. "You've hardly eaten for the past few days. You've barely left your room. You're a wreck, hon." He placed a canvas bag next to me on the bed. "Pack. You have a plane leaving in three hours. It's time for you to go home."

"You're going to send me away?!" I was shocked. Surely he would take care of me in my time of need. Surely he would not force me to leave the only place I had known as home. He shook his head at me, sighing.

"That's the first time in a month that you've shown any amount of fire, Bells. I'd love to have you stay. You know that. But you're wasting away. You got too invested in him." I nodded. Accepting his words was difficult, but even I was aware that I had given far too much of my identity up in pursuing Edward. "When you're ready to come back, you're always welcome," he said softly.

I stood on shaky legs and crossed to him, wrapping my arms around him tightly. "I know, Charlie. Thank you."

Three hours later I was seated in first class, headed back to my home - a place I had not seen in several years. Still, my sorrow did not leave me. If anything, the combination of my broken heart with my broken home destroyed my fragile emotional stability. I wept openly. The woman seated to my left patted my knee gently. After several moments, I was still unable to bring my wild sobs under control. The man across the aisle noticed, and angrily demanded I cease my wailing. Though my sorrow did not abate, I managed to calm slightly when the flight attendant told him that if he felt it necessary to be so rude, he could disembark. He glared at her, but said nothing else.

"Honey," she said, approaching me, "have some of this." She handed me a small tumbler full of amber liquid. I started to protest, but she held up her hand. "You'll feel better." I did not think too much about it after the kind lady next to me nodded as well. I downed the glass in two swallows and passed it back to the attendant. I leaned back in my seat, the sobs coming intermittently, and felt the plane taxiing down the runway. I felt my body relaxing slightly, then knew no more.

* * *

I woke when the plane landed, a gentle shaking of my shoulder alerting me that I was blocking the woman next to me from getting out. Mumbling an apology, I rose from my seat, stepping into the aisle to stretch my cramped muscles. The flight attendant gave me a sad smile.

"What did you give me?"

"Just a mild sedative. Works every time." Her voice was gentle as she helped pull my carry on down from the overhead compartment. She ushered me out of the plane and down the loading bridge to the airport. "Is there someone waiting on you?" I shrugged, not sure if Charlie had been able to get in touch with any of my relatives. The answer, however, came from the end of the ramp.

"I will take that, madam."

Though his words were clipped, and his demeanor would be considered cold by those who did not know him, I rushed toward the speaker, throwing my arms about his middle and hugging him tightly.

"Oh, Uncle!"

"We would have come to get you, Bella," he said, nodding to the attendant as she handed over my bag. "There was no need to make a trans-Atlantic flight." He walked us away from the jet-bridge, stopping when his back was to a wall and letting me cling to him fiercely. After several minutes I pulled away, and he frowned as he looked down at his oxford.

"Now that I need new attire, do I dare hope this is the only luggage you brought with you?" He scowled as I shook my head and produced a baggage claim ticket. Huffing, he took my hand and guided us in that direction. I could not help but smile at his discomfort. "You may think this humorous now, Isabella, but I am most unamused." My smile only got larger.

After claiming my luggage, he guided me into an alcove, and wrapped his arms tightly around me.

"Uncle!" I hissed. "What if I should need to leave this country by muggle means? I can't very well do, if I don't have a stamp in my passport."

He smirked down at me. "You should have thought of that before amusing yourself at my expense." And with a slight turn, I felt the world shift about me.

* * *

My already pallid skin turned a ghastly shade of grey as I tried to acclimate my stomach to the jolt of apparition. It had been far too long since I had "side-alonged" and I knew my body would be rebelling against this interaction with someone else's magic.

"Isabella."

I raised my face to the new voice, taking in the bald head and slitted red eyes with hardly any visible reaction. His long fingers tapped against the throne upon which he was seated for a moment before stopping as he gripped the arms with sudden force.

"You were not sent away for safety's sake so that you could consort with a vampire. Or a werewolf." A growl sounded to his right, but I kept my eyes trained on the man intent on showing just how reprehensible he found my associations to be. "You were to be safe because of the prophecy."

"And one can not always fight fate, father."

A rippling gasp filled the room, quickly squashed when he rose from his throne and stepped into the light.

"Isabella Marie Swan, you dare defy me?"

"Why Swan, father?" His eyes flashed at my cheek and the dismissal of his question.

"A surname was required."

"Why not my mother's?"

He lunged towards me, slitted nostrils flaring as he stopped short. "If you must know, it is the only amount of sentimentality I have shown in my life."

"That doesn't answer the question," I reminded him softly. His eyes narrowed and he looked as though he wanted to shake me.

"Why must you try my patience?"

"Because my only memories of you are from muggle photographs and Uncle's recollections." His gaze turned to the stern man with whom I had arrived. The silence was palpable, an almost electric undercurrent tinging the air as my father tested his servant's will.

Finally turning away from my uncle, he spun on his heel, effectively dismissing us both. "This is neither the time nor the place for this discussion. Escort her to her quarters, then return here." My uncle grasped my hand, placing it into the crook of his elbow as he escorted me from the chamber.

* * *

I had forgotten, because Uncle's visits were so infrequent, how wonderful the magical oils could be. Stepping from the bath, I felt rejuvenated. I entered my bedroom dripping wet. Though the winter weather had certainly done no favors for father's manor house, I paid it no mind as I towelled off. A throat clearing behind me had me squeaking as I pivoted. I scowled at my mother, whose high-pitched laughter echoed through the cavernous room.

"Your father is having words with your uncle," my mother's voice floated to me as I stepped over to the bed, "so I've come to see how you are." No sooner had the words left her lips than I burst into tears, collapsing onto the large bed in the enter of the room. Though my mother's voice surrounded me, I was once more inconsolable. She crooned to me, but it took quite some time before my sobs abated.

Though it spanned several more bouts of desperate grief, I was finally able to tell her enough. When she eventually shushed me, I was too tired to protest, and drifted to sleep.

* * *

I awoke to hushed voices.

"What were we to do?"

"You were supposed to protect her!" I opened one eye, taking in my mother's flashing eyes and angry countenance.

"When? Precisely when was I supposed to be able to carry out that task? How you managed to keep her alive while we were in _that place_ I'll never know. Nor do I want to." Uncle was holding his hand up to forestall mother's explanation, and her jaw snapped shut. I tried to keep my breathing even, so they would continue their discussion. Sadly, it seemed Uncle had noticed. "Such a trouble maker. Just like your mother." Mother's screech caused me to cringe, and I knew my ruse was ended.

"Yes, well." I sat up, keeping the blanket that had been placed over me firmly tucked around my body. I had not been clothed when I allowed fatigue to overtake me, and – as I had often been told – ladies did not display their assets to 'all and sundry.'

"I understand why you didn't want to mention this in front of your father earlier. But he will want to hear all of the details, Isabella."

"Bella."

"Excuse me?"

"Bella. The muggles you left me with –"

"Squibs," Mother corrected. "I would never leave you with _muggles_."

Uncle sniffed. "Quite right."

"Fine," I huffed. "_Squibs_. Still, not able to do magic, so I couldn't either. I simply wish to be called Bella, rather than by my full name."

"This is a muggle affectation."

"That may be, but who left me there for seventeen years?"

Uncle crossed to the bed, staring down at me. I cowered under the blanket, realizing for the first time why he was considered a highly dangerous man. "We could not risk your death, _Bella_. We needed you to survive. Though, I admit, your involvement with the vampires and werewolves was not a foreseen event."

Had he not been so intimidating, I might have given him some cheek. Still, I knew my limits, and where Uncle was concerned I had reached them. "It wasn't all bad. It did let me hold on to a small piece of this world."

"Oh, never mind all that." Mother's intervention kept Uncle from making a rejoinder. I had missed bantering with him. His proper ways were not something to which life as the sheriff's daughter had accustomed me, but his rapier wit certainly kept my mind – and my tongue – sharp. "Rodolphus, we need to consider her education. She'll need certifications if she's to enter into society, and she'll certainly have to be able to defend herself."

"Hm. I could take over her training in several areas, Bellatrix. Though I'm not enamored of him, Malfoy would be a good choice to aid in that endeavor as well. Many of our contacts are diminished."

"I'm aware –"

Whatever Mother had been about to state was halted immediately by the presence of the house elf.

"Dubh is begging your pardons." Her voice was soft. Though it was clear she was a servant, she carried herself better than some of the other elves I'd seen when Uncle had brought me into these chambers. Her large eyes widened as Mother yelled at her to hurry about with her message. "The Master is wishing to see the young miss."

Uncle bowed to me before leaving the room. I rose once the door was locked, allowing the elf to help dress me. Though I had become comfortable in the modern muggle dress and I would sorely miss my denims, I could not deny that the satin material sliding sensuously against my skin went a long way towards making me become enamored of the stricter dress code of Mother's society. Once I was appropriately dressed and sitting in front of the vanity, Mother instructed the elf as to hair and makeup, then glared at me, her eyes catching mine in the mirror.

"You will have to tell him."

"I know."

"The sooner, the better. He does not like secrets, and sees them as a betrayal." I nodded. "Do leave out the bit about begging for your death as long as possible, though. I highly doubt you'll appreciate his reaction." My smile was grim as I turned to face her, Dubh having finished her work. I started to reach a hand up to my hair, halting at the venomous stare Mother bestowed on me. "You will become acclimated to this very quickly. You were always quick to learn, Isabella, and I have no doubt of your ability to make up lost time, as it were, in learning the intricacies of wielding magic. You will certainly bring us great pride."

Happy as I was to be away from Forks and all of my memories there, with each word Mother caused another knell of impending doom to sound. I had been scared of what Edward would have given me, but I would have achieved immortality. Father had always sought that, but had been unwilling to be beholden to achieve it. Yet as Mother continued, I felt a different weight settle on my shoulders. I realized my concerns before were trivial comparatively. I would now have to fit into the society Uncle had always spoken of on his visits. I would now be expected to surmount seventeen years of the absence of training in magic. And, as Uncle had always told me on his infrequent trips stateside, I would be expected to ensnare the affections of Father's enemy, to lure him to his doom.

One thing was certain. I was no longer concerned about Edward Cullen.


	2. II: Rodolphus

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own Twilight. I make no profit from this work of fiction._

Author's note:

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* * *

Though I had made mention of the possibility of seeking the aid of the Malfoys in Isabella's education, I ultimately decided on another individual. It would, after all, be imperative that she not only learn her place within society, but that she also have a proper understanding of things. Lucius had always placed his loyalty to his family above all else. Commendable in some situations, though when it came to the living heir of the Dark Lord such a division of attention would be detrimental.

With this in mind, I dispatched the owl to another of my comrades. While he lacked a wife, he would be more than capable of educating Isabella on the finer points of the world in which she would be assuming a place of high honor.

Another matter drew my thoughts once the owl had flown from my line of sight. The task of procuring for her a wand in order to train her lay before me. As she had pointed out, Isabella had been left without magical training. Though the couple she was left with were squibs, they had little knowledge of the wizarding world. Purebloods both, they were still outcast. They would have known how to explain her small bursts of accidental magic to neighbors for a time, but not how to harness that ability. Pitiable though it was, I only had a limited time in which to hone her skills.

Resting my elbows on the ornate desk allotted to me in this domicile, I steepled my fingers as I weighed my options.

Ollivander was right out. I did not trust any German wandmakers, and I did not know that I should trust any French ones. While that left me options in Spain, I did not wish to explore those any more than I should choose to return to the Americas to obtain a wand for her. Still pondering the possibilities, I did not realize I was no longer alone until I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Years of battle-honed instinct were impossible to suppress. Despite my innate knowledge that she and I were alone in the manor other than the elves, my wand was at her throat as my body pressed her into the wall. I had never been one to rely solely on my magic when faced with a physically inferior opponent. Even as my mind began to clear from the natural instincts which had overpowered it, taking in the terror in Isabella's eyes, my body registered that she was not choosing "flight" in her response to the situation.

I had barely begun to step away and lower my wand before I regretted the decision. Her eyes changed from frightened doe to angered cobra. The minute change in my position was enough to provide her an advantage, one which she quickly pressed. The left hand she had raised in a signal of surrender as my wand had gouged her neck lowered to grasp my right wrist. With my attention focusing on my wand arm, I did not note the shift in her hips that would have alerted me to her moving one of her feet behind mine. She pushed just hard enough to cause me to fall off balance, my left hand reaching back to steady me against the desk. I blinked, and opened my eyes to see my own wand pointed at me.

"I might not know the right words to say to make this thing work magic, but I do know how to use a pointy stick to poke someone's eye out, Uncle."

I was taken aback for a moment. She would do well in hand to hand combat, certainly. My laughter filled the room as I pictured her breaking young Malfoy's nose as that upstart mudblood had once done. Such openness from me shocked her, and her hold on my wand loosened. I snatched it from her hand as her grip slackened, sheathing it quickly. Still chuckling, I held up my hand as she took a deep breath to berate me.

"Forgive me, Isabella. I simply find great amusement in your resourcefulness. However, as a primer to your education..." Wandlessly and nonverbally, I produced a bluebell flame. I did not attempt to fight the smug grin that graced my features as her jaw dropped slightly. My other hand reached up to her chin, pushing her mouth closed once more. "Magic requires neither wand nor speech. Also, ladies do not let their mouths fall open, no matter the amount of surprise."

She was still glaring as I turned from her, snapping my fingers softly to call an elf to the room. Decisions about a wand might be able to wait a short time, but a proper wardrobe required immediate attention. Dubh may have been one of the most accomplished elves in seamstress magic that I had ever had the fortune to know – she had saved me enough trouble of buying Bellatrix new clothes by altering them well enough – but Isabella would need more than her mother's cast off clothing.

"Master calls Eitri?"

"Yes. Have Dubh prepare Miss Swan for departure." As expected the order was met with a slight displacement of air as the elf departed.

"You don't have to talk to them like that."

I turned back to her slowly. Surely she was not daring to correct me on proper haviour. Her arms were crossed over her chest, a scowl firmly in place. In that moment I could have sincerely killed my wife for sending her daughter to live with squibs. She appeared every inch to be a sanctimonious outsider.

"You are not yet educated in the ways of this world in which you now find yourself. Not completely. Oh, I've told you tales, yes." I took her hand, placing it in the crook of my elbow as I guided her to the door. "But none of those tales have prepared you fully for life among the elite – which is where you now find yourself. _They are servants_," I hissed, waving my hand to open the door and escorting her into the hallway. "They expect to receive _orders_, not _requests_."

Her silence afterward was not that of a person insistent on the veracity of their own position. Her scowl was not that of a child petulantly believing they had been wrongfully chastised. Instead she appeared to be contemplating the reality of the situation. Upon arriving at the stairs, she turned to face me as Dubh took her hand to lead her up to her chambers to prepare.

"I suppose you're right. That might have been what Renée's mother was trying to teach me by taking me to those high-scale restaurants. The waiters always looked at me with disdain when I requested something, whenever I said 'please' and 'thank you'. I always just thought they were being snooty."

Gracing her with a gentile smile, I motioned for her to allow Dubh to lead her away, releasing her hand. "You have much to learn yet, Isabella, for magic is not the only area in which your education is lacking. I will teach you, and will have others to educate you as well. In less than a year, we will have you prepared for your proper place." She smiled radiantly at me then, and I took in her features as any unmarried socialite would have. Her beauty would need guarding from an outside source until she had learned enough to protect herself. Even then, it would be prudent to have a bodyguard around her at all times. Watching her ascend the stairs, I began considering carefully which individuals could be trusted with such a task.

* * *

The chime sounding at our entry alerted the staff to our arrival. An olive-skinned woman stepped from behind a curtain, her eyes immediately taking in Isabella's dress. Her disapproval of such old-fashioned attire was clear. The disdain in my voice was equally transparent as I informed her of our needs. Her demeanor changed almost immediately, becoming conciliatory as she realized that we represented "old money" – older fashion was an affectation among our social circle. It was not, however, one that Isabella could afford coming into the social circles she would be entering within the next few months.

She was led to a tailor's stand, tape measures magically assessing her form. The seamstress, trusting her tools, led me to a chaise and called for an elf to provide me with a beverage. Swatches of material were laid before me. Changing colors liberally, I marked the ones of which I approved. Isabella continued to fidget, eliciting small huffs of aggravation from the seamstress. Hiding a smile, I cleared my throat. Isabella stilled for a few moments.

Various shoes were brought out and placed at the base of the tailor's dais. All were a basic tan, causing Isabella to frown. I could not help my mirth at the situation.

"Never you mind about the color. They will match whichever garment they are chosen to accompany. That's the magic that's woven into them when they're crafted. Simply choose styles with which you will be comfortable."

She nodded, returning her full attention to the footwear before her. Seeing her discard several styles that would not suit the shape of her foot, I smiled gently as I turned back to the swatches before me. The materials for dresses having been exhausted, I found myself now regarding the various cloths available for cloak linings. These I chose by allowing them to brush my skin gently. Those I found most appealing I sent over to Isabella for approval.

After several hours going through the process of choosing the proper garments for her, we left the establishment. The sun was beginning to fall in the sky, bringing with it late afternoon heat. Without much thought, I cast a cooling charm on myself. When I tried to do the same for Isabella, it became clear my effort was unnecessary. Without magical training she had still been able to hone her skills adequately enough that she was able to cast such a charm. Placing her hand on my forearm as I looped her arm through mine, we walked sedately down the boulevard.

"Tell me, have you ever been hot in summer?"

"Hm? Oh, not since I was very young. Grandmother Higginbotham – Renée's mother – taught me how to keep cool in warmer weather when I was able to walk on my own." I nodded, hoping she would continue without prodding. "She kept saying these words and making a movement with her hand whenever I began to sweat, and suddenly I wouldn't be warm anymore, just comfortable. When she was out one day, and I started to get warm, I said the words myself, moving my hand, and I was comfortable again. Years later, when I started school, I knew I couldn't say the words out loud any more, so I just concentrated, making the movements with my finger instead of my whole hand and saying the words in my head. After that, Arizona summers were never a problem for me."

As she explained, we had arrived at our next destination. I opened the door, escorting her inside. A short, somewhat pale man descended a ladder. He approached slowly, sensing quite rightly the strength of magic in us both. His hand trembled slightly as he reached out to disentangle her hand from my arm and lead her to the counter.

"Are you certain she needs a wand, sir?"

"She will need one to finish her schooling. They require one."

The merchant nodded, reaching for various boxes. He mumbled to himself as he discarded several of the wands he would have normally tried with a novice. After several minutes he lined up seven boxes along the counter. "Each is unique, and while one may work, please try each to find the best match."

I stood behind her as her fingers tripped lightly over the clear cases. I was a bit surprised at her immediately discarding both yew and walnut wood wands. That choice left her with only four boxes, two of which were hawthorn. The implications of that choice were quite clear, and I was unsurprised when she spoke.

"One of these." She pushed the other two boxes back a bit, opening the hawthorn boxes. She held one hand over each, and one of the wands flew into her palm much more quickly than the other. The wandmaker appeared astonished by the choice.

"Rarely do I see that wand choose someone of your age."

"Oh?"

Isabella was genuinely curious. I had never discussed with her how wands were made, that the components of the wand could affect the use and character of the magic flowing through it. The elements from which the wand was crafted indicated quite clearly traits about the wand's user. Isabella was sure to learn this over the course of the next year – people would make quite a few assumptions about her based on her wand alone.

"The core is a unicorn hair on the one, a thestral hair on the other." He frowned a bit, turning from her to look at his shelves. "I wonder, if you would indulge me..." His voice trailed off as he placed another case on the counter. Returning the wand that responded more slowly to its box and setting it to the side, she opened the new case. She closed her eyes as she took the new wand in hand.

"Something isn't quite right." Her voice was barely a whisper yet it sounded quite clearly in the charged atmosphere of the shop.

"The core and the wood do not both match what you need."

I took the alder wood wand from her hand, replacing it in its case. "Construct her one with the elements that are best suited to her." The wandmaker bowed his head in acceptance of the commission. "For the time being, she will train with this wand."

"It will certainly suit her for now. Will she be needing a sheath?" I nodded, and he escorted us over to a case with various ladies' wand sheaths. "Plain, or adorned?"

"I should think plain just now. Should she wish something more cultured later, we can certainly discuss that once the other wand has been prepared."

"As you wish." Several sheaths were placed on the counter, with straps of varying lengths and thicknesses. "Right or left?"

Isabella looked to me when I did not answer immediately, only to find my gaze resting on her. "Which is your writing hand, Isabella?"

"Oh!" Her pink-tinged cheeks would be endearing to potential suitors, something else I would need to mention to her bodyguard. "Right."

The wandmaker pulled two sheaths from the stack, each a standard black leather. I blanched slightly as I realized Dubh would not be aware of how to fasten a lady's dress over the sheath and still allow access so that she could draw her wand from her thigh if she were wearing a sleeveless gown. A concern for a later time, I concluded as I handed over the payment for our purchases and a generous amount towards the commissioned wand.

"Whom should I owl at its completion?"

"Rodolphus Lestrange." The heady rush of power filled me once more as I watched his skin turn more pallid. "I can trust your discretion in this matter?" He was quick to provide his assent. It was gratifying to know that my name alone could still terrorize. I suppressed the urge to cackle madly à-la-Bellatrix as we exited the shop, Isabella's hand once more in the crook of my elbow as I guided her through the streets.


	3. III: Thorfinn

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own Twilight. I make no profit from this work of fiction._

**Author's note**: _I apologize for the delay in updates. This was meant to be uploaded at the same time as chapter two, but was not quite ready, unfortunately. Having said that, I don't intend to rush this, so things to which you may want an answer immediately might not be revealed until later in the story. If everything were laid bare to begin with, it would hardly be worth telling the tale, n'est-ce pas?_

**Special thanks** again to alyssamcgrath, ilubcupcakes, fresh-BLOOD-was-drawn-2night – I appreciate the reviews!

**Thanks** to bakerusaf, IlyTwilightDudes, Sterben4, TheUnquietDead, Vi38 – each alert and favorite is very much appreciated.

**fresh-BLOOD-was-drawn-2night** – She calls Rodolphus Uncle. Also in chapter one, her father is addressing "the stern man with whom [she] arrived" - Rodolphus. I think your confusion may be because Rodolphus is the one who is handling her affairs. That, I assure you, will be explained.

_As with all authors, I appreciate feedback. Please tell me what you did or did not like so that I can improve._

* * *

"Eitri is telling you as soon as Master Lestrange and Miss Swan is back."

The little elf trembled slightly as he left me in the drawing room. It had been quite some time since I had been in this particular manse. I had not planned on returning, but Rodolphus' letter seemed urgent enough, and the elf's calling of "Miss Swan" certainly indicated some truth to the tale my compatriot had spun.

I still could not quite grasp the conception of such a child. I had, in fact, thought she was merely a myth – something that was told to the younger of our number in order to determine gullibility, or loyalty. When they had asked me if I would defend an heir of our Lord, of course I had answered I would. Why a man who would live forever would need or desire offspring was not for me to question. So I simply said I would, even laying down my own life as I would for my Lord. And they had nodded and moved to the next of the circle.

Thinking back on it, it was possible that Severus and Lucius knew something that the rest of us had not known. It would be something that Severus had managed to keep secret from that bumbling Dumbledore, may he burn in Tartarus. Of course, it was equally likely that they had merely been carrying out His orders and asking the question based on an eventuality. Though the timing was odd.

My musings were interrupted, however, as the elf reappeared to escort me to a different chamber. I followed, refusing to be transported by elf magic. Such humiliations were for errant children. I was glad of my stubborn insistence on walking as we passed by the main stairwell. Looking up, I caught a glimpse of her, focusing on breathing deeply to keep my surprise from showing.

Her dark raven tresses were reminiscent of both her parents, though her straight hair appeared to be a genetic trait from my Lord. I wondered for a moment about the color of her eyes before turning my attention back to the elf. Once at Rodolphus' study, the elf merely popped out of the room, the doors behind me seeming to close of their own accord.

"She'll need a bodyguard."

"That's such a lovely greeting, Thorfinn." Rodolphus had not looked up from the letter he was writing.

"I mean it."

He put the quill down, rolled the parchment and sealed it, calling an owl to him. Whispering to the owl, he opened the window and let it fly before closing the portal once more. "I am acutely aware of her appearance." He motioned to the straight-backed chair across from his desk before returning his quill to the inkwell. "She has been practicing magic."

"All children act out magic, Rodolphus. That's hardly –"

"A cooling charm." I relaxed into the chair, waiting for him to continue. "Since before she was six years of age." Not attempting to hide my surprise, I allowed my right eyebrow to rise.

"How did she learn? Accidental magic is not usually manifested in such complexity. Did she repeat the behavior or was it a singular event?"

"From what she has said, it was a regular occurrence. One she performed, once she was six years of age, without either wand or speaking the spell aloud." He looked down at the desk, shaking his head before looking into my eyes once more. "And I thought I was demonstrating something when I showed her the bluebell flame."

I leaned forward, relaxing my posture with my old friend. "Who taught her? I know you visited her, but…."

"No. I told her stories, gave her indications as to what would be expected of her should the need arise."

"Well, it has certainly arisen." Rodolphus stood, his disdain for my cheek obvious in his stance.

"Your levity is inappropriate, Thorfinn. I should think you would have learned, when it comes to our Lord, that some things are discouraged."

Standing as I allowed my left pointer to idly trace the scar the Potter brat had inflicted on me himself, I frowned. "Some things, comrade, I shall not forget."

I followed Rodolphus as he exited the room, snapping his fingers lightly as he got to the door. The elf returned. "Eitri, where is Mistress Isabella?"

"Eitri will bring her presently."

"To the drawing room." The elf nodded and vanished. I followed Rodolphus down the dreary hallway.

"We really ought to have someone come in and redecorate."

Waving his hand to open the doors, Rodolphus turned to me, disapproval on his face. "And how precisely should we explain that one?" I shook my head as I entered the room before him. "I did not bring you here, Thorfinn, for your wit or your cheek." I turned to face him. "I asked you here to help her with her social education. She is a quick learner."

"Let us hope so." My voice was soft, but it carried in the quiet chamber. Rodolphus' eyebrow lifted slightly. "I have no desire to stay in this manse any longer than needed."

A smirk crossed his face. "Of course not. I don't suppose you are particularly fond of this room."

"No." He nodded, and appeared to be ready to say more. The doors opening again, however, halted him – to my relief.

"Uncle, when will the delivery … Oh, hello."

"Isabella, this is Thorfinn Rowle. He will help you learn what you will need to know in order to ingratiate yourself with the society in which you now find yourself." To her credit, she acknowledged his order with a slight nod before dipping into a curtsy to me. As she did, an elf appeared bearing a letter for Rodolphus.

"Mr. Rowle."

"She's endearing."

Rodolphus hummed briefly as he helped her rise and led her to a chaise. "The missive that just arrived assures me that her physical guard will be with us before the day's end."

"Oh?"

"Surely you did not think I would trust one such as you with that task."

"Now, Isabella, that barb would engender a response from those of lower class. For example, the general populace would be quite tempted to grace your uncle with the muggle two-fingered salute." Rodolphus moved to the sideboard and prepared himself a glass of brandy. "As a member of elite society, nothing so crass would ever be acceptable." She nodded, gracing me with a smile. "His comment, of course, indicates that I'm of ill repute and a womanizer. So, I can either justify his remark with levity by flirting with you, or I can return a barb of my own, impugning his integrity."

Rodolphus passed me a glass of firewhiskey. I took a sip, letting it sit on my tongue before feeling the burning liquid trickle down my throat.

"Well?"

I set down the glass. "You can never push someone to continue the conversation, Isabella."

"I will, however, also say that if you take this long to formulate a rejoinder, there is certainly nothing that can be done to salvage the reputation."

"I appreciate your input, Rodolphus, but did you not wish for me to educate her on these points?"

"Certainly you did not think I would sit idly by while you did so."

"Touché."

"All right, I get the idea. Swift, cutting, intelligent response. Not a crass hand gesture. Next lesson?"

Rodolphus smiled, raising his glass in salute before taking another sip of his brandy.

"Well, she certainly inherited her parents' patience."

"Oh, I think she's been far more lenient in her indulgence of your antics than her father would have been, wouldn't you agree?" I paled. "And that, Isabella, is how you remind someone of their place in a hierarchy."

Though Isabella appeared confused by Rodolphus' comment, she merely nodded.

"I have been informed, Isabella, that you are able to perform complex magic without your wand."

"What do you mean?"

"On our trip earlier, I asked you whether you had been hot in the summertime."

"Uncle, do you mean Grandmother Higginbotham was using magic?"

The name struck a chord within my memory. There was something incredibly familiar about that name. I realized I had been ignoring the conversation between Rodolphus and Isabella when I found myself the recipient of a stinging hex.

"Bloody hell!"

"Why you would choose to ignore the situation – you of _all_ people…" Rodolphus' arrogant tone clearly demonstrated his disdain. It seemed quite personal, moreso than I believed to be warranted. "Regardless, it would appear that there was more to the lineage of Isabella's adoptive wards than had been previously disclosed. Though, I can hardly be surprised by that. Considering the sources."

Isabella appeared confused, so I decided to continue her education. "You see, what Rodolphus is referring to is the tendency of the elite to look after themselves before anyone else. Information one finds himself – or herself – in possession of is to be guarded. Though we were given some details about you, I myself was unaware of whether you were a myth until today. It stands to reason, then, that those who knew the full details of your situation would not disclose them."

"And those who knew these details would be…?"

"Your wards, your parents, and the one who transported you to the Americas." Rodolphus' response was slightly clipped. I looked to Isabella to see how she would receive the slight rebuke. Other than a slight look of hurt in her eyes, she did not betray her emotions outwardly. I nodded, finishing my firewhiskey.

"You handled that well, Isabella. Despite your higher social ranking than Rodolphus, his age does indeed award him the benefit of deference. Also, his response was not, on its surface, rude – merely his tone was less than ideal." She sat straighter, receiving the praise with the same detachment, other than her eyes. I did note, with some disappointment, that her eyes were not the nearly-obsidian eagle green of her father's youth, but a paler brown than her mother's bistre-shaded, cinnamon-flecked orbs.

"I think, Rodolphus, it might be easiest to determine where she may be lacking in basic social skills by organizing an outing." My comrade nodded, his thoughts likely still occupied by the same niggling notion regarding 'Grandmother Higginbotham' that I was momentarily ignoring. "In the meantime, I will focus on educating her to the current hierarchy."

Though it was the most mundane of tasks, it was somewhat of an honor to be given the responsibility of making certain that when Isabella made her entrance to the social circles she did so with grace and poise. With the realization that my death would be the result of any disgrace she suffered, I was prepared to expend every bit of effort needed in order to make certain that she knew whom she could safely ignore at an engagement, and to whom she should show any amount of deference. After an hour of teaching her the bloodlines as outlined by Cantankerus Nott more than seventy years gone, and all of the changes in those sacred bloodlines since, the elf Eitri returned.

"Do you have any questions?"

"Was he as crotchety as his name suggests?"

While I was distracted trying to discern her meaning, Rodolphus chimed in, having finished his business with the elf. "Have you been going over Nott's work?"

"Of course."

"Isabella, would you care to enlighten him?"

She proceeded to practically recite the text of Nott's work to me. After several minutes I held up my hand for her to stop. "I take it you have heard the material before." She nodded. "Then why did you not stop me?"

"I suppose then that I was incorrect and this was not a test of how well I will be able to appear interested while bored to tears."

I was unprepared for that rejoinder and found myself laughing quite openly. The next few hours were filled with similar incidents as I sought to provide her the best understanding of her place within the hierarchy.

"So, basically, what you're saying is that even though in our circles I'm considered higher than any of the others, I still have to defer to them until I've proven myself." I nodded, taking a sip from my tumbler. "And how, precisely, should I accomplish that feat?"

It was a conundrum, to be sure. She had a purpose, and not the one for which her existence was originally conceived. In order to achieve that purpose, she had a very specific set of individuals with whom she could ally. Yet even within that group, she would have to demonstrate her skills – both with magic and in every day endeavors, before she would be accepted and given the support which was her birthright.

"Pandering to their egos by submitting to a scheduled test would only prove that I am able to perform as any trained monkey. As I understand my parentage, I am not so ill-bred." Rodolphus smiled.

"No, Isabella, you are not. And your assessment is accurate. The problem for us, at this moment, does not lie in finding the method by which you should prove yourself, or even the time. The issue before us is, rather, how you should enter into this society. And that is why you are sitting here – 'bored to tears' going over the same material that you and I had exhausted throughout your youthful summers in the States. Torfinn's role in this is to determine those areas in which you need refinement. Keeping your tongue silent will likely be one of them." Rodolphus held his hand up at her rather vocal disagreement. "The culture in which you were raised was quite different. I did my utmost to make certain that you knew you would need to acclimate to a new one in the event your arrival here ever became necessary. Women, in this society, are the 'silent partners' – they are the 'power behind the throne' so to speak. For the most part. There are a few exceptions to the rule."

"Aren't there always." Though my comment was muttered as I took a sip of my firewhiskey, Rodolphus' aim was still true. His spell shattered the glass in my hand, splashing all of my clothing with the alcohol and embedding shards in my palm. I snarled as I pulled out my wand, casting a harmless jinx in his direction before using a spell to remove the shards carefully. From the corner of my eye, I saw a jet of colored light darting for my leg. Frowning in contempt at having my concentration diverted, I swished my wand to cast a basic deflection shield.

For the next several moments, I was engrossed in removing the shards of glass from my hand and warding off the increasingly dangerous curses that Rodolphus seemed intent to cast in my direction. After finally removing the last shard, I raised my wand as I stood, prepared to duel him formally to end this debacle.

"Prepare to defend yourself, Lestrange."

His response was a chuckle as he motioned lazily that he would accept my challenge. Making a mental note to educate my Lord's progeny on the proper etiquette of dueling so she would know exactly in what low regard Rodolphus held me, I attacked. He parried with curses of his own, counter-attacking quite often as our duel wore on. After his tenth spell connected with me and forced me to the floor, I was ready to concede defeat. I never got the chance.

The last spell that I had attributed to Rodolphus had actually come from the opposite direction. Eitri was just visible behind a very familiar set of boots as he backed from the room, trembling, wringing his long elven ears. Standing over me, wand pointed directly between my eyes, was someone even I had assumed had been defeated.

"You will not engage in such antics again, Rowle."

"And who are you to order me?"

"Her bodyguard."


End file.
